


Reconnaissance

by FeatherWriter



Series: A Crow's Rescue [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Based on a Grimoire card, Bickering, Canon Compliant, Gen, Guardian puts up with more than she should, Impromptu Rescue Mission, Mars, Reluctant Bonding, Uldren Sov is a jerk, if you can call it that, voidwalker - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherWriter/pseuds/FeatherWriter
Summary: A Guardian takes some time alone in the wilderness, hoping to find answers in the midst of some difficult questions. What she finds out in the wastelands of Mars is something else entirely.





	1. Chapter 1

The midday desert wind brought with it a deep chill as the sun slipped into the early afternoon. The cold was to be expected, considering the geography, yet it was still disconcerting to be in a desert that never felt anything close to warm. Terraforming could do incredible things, but it couldn’t move Mars closer to the sun. There would always be a chill here.  


Sylvanni lay on her stomach at the edge of a cliff ridge, looking out over the dusty red expanse below as she pulled out her sniper rifle. It was a long time companion, its workings comfortable in her hands. She barely needed to look as detached the mounted scope, pulling a longer, heavier alternative from her pack. Her regular fitting was good for a firefight, something that gave good range without compromising stability too much, but for this, she wanted as great a distance as possible.

With the telescopic mount attached, she leaned forward, the faceplate of her helmet helpfully sliding up to let her press the scope to her eye. The horizon rushed to greet her like an old friend, distant details becoming clear between the crosshairs.

“Apologies,” a familiar voice said beside her, electronic distortion coloring the words just slightly, “but I must admit some confusion. Did I miss an assignment? Are we on a patrol mission that I didn’t hear? This is… rather far from the grid.”

Sylvanni leaned back, eyeing the floating geometric shape just above her left shoulder. “We’re scouting.”

“For whom?”

Sylvanni put an eye back to the scope. “The Tower.”

Her Ghost gave a chirping beep at the nonspecific answer. “We haven’t seen anyone in almost four days.”

_That was kind of the point,_ she thought. “Not entirely true. We’ve cleared out at least three outposts of Cabal so far.”

“You know what I meant. What are we even looking for way out here?”

She knew what the Ghost was digging at, but she clung to the official excuse a while longer. “I just noticed that intelligence from the Athabasca area was very scarce. Little more than satellite images.”

“That’s because there’s nothing here,” the Ghost said glumly.

Sylvanni sighed, letting her head fall forward. “I just… I needed some space. To get away from it all for a while. The emptiness helps me think.”

The Ghost took a moment to process that. “Think about what?”

She answered his question with one of her own. “Do you know what happens when you bring us back? Guardians, I mean. When the Traveler made you to bring me back to life, what exactly did you do?”

“I’m not certain I know what you mean.”

She moved back to the scope, distracting herself with a slow and careful sweep of the horizon. “I just find myself wondering about my life before all of this. I barely remember anything from then. My name, a few images, a few words and phrases. I just wonder if I'm… different now. If I met the person I was back in life, would she recognize me, or would she see a stranger wearing her skin?”

“Guardian…”

“Maybe I’m overthinking it,” she said. “I mean, I have a duty now. It’s good work, right? We’re fighting the Darkness, we’re protecting people, defending the Last City. Maybe I shouldn’t question. I’m more effective if I don’t think and just do.

“But sometimes I feel like I’m just a weapon. ‘Go here, Guardian, shoot this, come back and we’ll tell you the next thing to shoot. If you want a break, go train in the Crucible and spar with other Guardians.’”

Sylvanni pushed away from the rifle, turning to look at her small Ghost. Perhaps putting voice to her tumultuous words had been a poor choice, as her frustration was now rising. There wasn’t even anything truly _wrong_ , per se, but questions of her own identity and duty kept catching her, tugging at her thoughts and pulling her in circles about who she was and what she wanted.

“Am I still a person, Ghost? Or am I just a tool, created to fill a specific purpose? Did the Traveler actually resurrect _me,_ or did it just shove some Light into an old body no one was using, to make another fighter for the front lines? I feel like I must have had friends and family and hopes and dreams before all this and now… I just have a next mission.”

A wave of guilt washed over her as she finished speaking, and not just because she knew the Ghost wasn’t the one with answers to her questions. He wasn’t unintelligent, but the little robot lacked some of the capacities for empathy and philosophical reasoning that dealing with his Guardian’s personal existential crisis would require. It wasn’t his fault. He was just doing what he was designed to do, and she felt like she’d taken it out on him.

Yet, she didn’t dare speak about any of these things with other Guardians. It felt selfish to even think about this, when the magnitude of their duty stretched before them. The defense of the Tower and the Last City required everyone at their best, performing optimally, and yet here she was, fretting over things that probably didn’t even matter anymore, like her past life. Normally she just tried to ignore her nagging doubts, throwing herself into raid after strike after mission in an attempt to distract herself with duty. If she was working, she didn’t have to think about who she was.

Perhaps she should have known that wasn’t really sustainable. She was bound to burn out eventually and end up doing something like wandering the frigid deserts of Mars in a self-absorbed attempt to figure things out with alone time. It wasn’t as though it was helping anyway.

Her Ghost flitted uncertainly at her side, not entirely certain how to respond to something like this. Before he thought of anything, however, she caught sight of movement through her scope, far off in the west. She held up a hand, leaning close and focusing the lens on the distant object. It was dark against the pink and orange sky, rising like a cloud of smoke, but there was something not quite right about the way it moved.

She heard the Ghost flit down beside her, trying to catch what she was looking at. “Did you spot something?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she said slowly. “It’s too far away to really make out, even with the sight. I think we should check it out, though. Could be another Cabal outpost, and I wouldn’t mind taking down another of those.”

“Alright, Guardian. I’ll follow your lead. Should we take the Sparrow?”

The spot was a good distance away, especially considering the distance that her scope focused. Yet, without knowing what was over there, she felt it unwise to rush in headlong. “I’ll take it on foot,” she said. “I’d rather get an idea of what we’re dealing with before they see me.”

Not to mention, with as far off the working grid as they were, if the Sparrow was damaged, she wouldn’t be able to summon it back. The idea of making the days long trek back to the grid on foot wasn’t appealing. Better to be cautious with the Sparrow.

The cold desert wind whipped at her robes as she stood, slinging the sniper rifle onto her back. Holding scout rifle at the ready, she took a small leap over the edge, and slid down the incline, headed in the direction she’d seen that dark smudge.


	2. Chapter 2

As Sylvanni drew closer to the spot, she focused on her Light, sensing its strength. A constant steady pull at the center of her chest, as though a tiny black hole had taken up residence between her lungs, the steady inward draw of the void was a familiar sensation to her. She’d practiced with other disciplines, but somehow Voidwalker was the choice she kept returning to.

Its strength seemed to increase as she thought about it, each inhale easier than the exhale that followed it as drawing the breath inward was more natural than pushing it out again. The void left her feeling empty, but not necessarily in a bad way. She was like an instrument—a drum or a chime—hollowed out in order to resonate when struck. No distractions, nothing to sway her intent. With the void consuming all, she was steady precision, raw focus.

Periodically, she sighted down her scope, trying to get a clearer view of whatever it was she was approaching. Now, closer, she could see that the land rose in a gentle slope, and the source of the rising darkness was hidden by a cleft in the land. Through the focused glass, she began to make out distinct shapes within it, small specks, rather than smoke.

_Birds?_ She frowned, pausing. She wasn’t certain exactly what kinds of fauna were common on Mars, especially in uncharted terrain as far out as she was.

As she drew closer, beginning to climb the ridge obscuring her sight, she switched over to her scout rifle and whispered under her breath. “Ghost, can you tell me anything about those creatures? Something about them feels off to me.”

“I can’t get much from a scan at this distance,” he said. “My personal databases don’t have much on birds, but I am noting that whatever they are doing doesn’t seem to match natural flocking patterns.”

Sylvanni crested the edge, hiding behind a low boulder to obscure her from the other side. Taking a steadying breath, she stretched to sight over the top, just enough to look down the length of the scout rifle.

A ship like a tripod lay at an odd angle in the recess, badly damaged from what must have been a crash. Hundreds of the birds surrounded it, some perched on the side, others flapping about, a constant stream of them arriving and leaving. She had only a moment of confusion at the sight, then it clicked into place.

“That’s because they’re not actually birds,” she whispered. “They’re _crows_.”

Directly behind her, a footstep crunched on the loose dirt and stones, dangerously close. She spun, rifle training on the source of the sound even before she recognized who it was who had sneaked up on her.

An Awoken, with dark hair and glowing golden eyes, held a hand cannon steady, aimed at her head. They stared at one another silently for several tense heartbeats.

Finally, she was the one who broke the silence, a lifted eyebrow the only movement in her body. “Your Highness.”


	3. Chapter 3

Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef and Master of Crows, stared down at her with cold hostility. Sylvanni thought she could almost see the decision of whether or not he should fire tumbling through his head.

Though they both had weapons out, she felt distinctly disadvantaged in this situation. For one, though she had little doubt she’d be able to make a point-blank shot, her rifle wasn’t designed for extremely close quarters combat like this, not like his hand cannon would be. If either of them tried to duck or dodge away, she knew he would have an easier time aiming. Additionally, she was still kneeling in a crouch, while he stood upright over her.

“Guardian.” His voice growled over the word, which sounded more like an accusation than a greeting.

Silence stretched across heartbeats, sinewy and taut as they stared each other down.

She broke it, finally, fearing the sound of his gunshot might if someone didn’t. “Are you going to shoot me?”

She wasn’t terribly afraid of being shot most of the time, but Uldren knew about Guardians. He would be sure to kill her Ghost if he wanted to be rid of her. For all her power, there was real danger here.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, not answering her question.

“Reconnaissance.” When his eyes narrowed at that answer, she added, “I swear by the Traveler, I’m just on patrol.”

“Why?” he pressed. “There’s nothing out here for miles and miles.”

She looked him up and down with a meaningful glance. “I wouldn’t exactly say ‘nothing.’ I might ask what _you’re_ doing out here, if I may. The last I’d heard, you and your sister were both declared missing in action after the Battle of Saturn against Oryx’s Dreadnaught.”

His lip curled. “Your spies in the Reef tell you that, did they?”

She gave him a hard glare. Why did he always feel the need to jump to the worst conclusions?

“ _Petra Venj_ gave the Tower a report on the casualties. Because we’re _allies_?” She ticked a small nod towards the barrel of his gun, as though to ask why he was still threatening her with it. “Do you mind?”

He made a small motion toward her own gun, which, admittedly, was still trained on him too. Realizing he wasn’t going to drop his guard first, Sylvanni gritted her teeth, hating that she was going to be the one to move. With an excruciating slowness, she let her crosshairs start to dip, waiting to see if he would follow. Thankfully, he began to lower his weapon as well, both of them watching warily to make sure the other didn’t try anything.

When finally, neither of them were aiming for the other, Sylvanni let out a held breath and moved to stand. She looked over at his ship and the frightening condition it was in. His avian drones seemed to be working on repairing it, but it was quite an undertaking, especially for machines so small.

“You look like you could use some help with your ship,” she pointed out with some reluctance. They _were_ supposed to be allies and there was a part of her that couldn’t just leave him stranded out here, even if he was an utter pain in the ass.

“Help?” he sneered. “From you? And what is it that you would be able to do?”

It was _surprising_ , she thought. She wouldn’t have believed he could actually be any _more_ unpleasant and unlikable than their previous encounters, yet here he proved her wrong. There was a sharper aspect to him now, out in the wilds. Back in the throne room, he’d been imperious and condescending, dismissive of her mission and her requests.

It was different from the hostility he projected now. _Danger,_ she realized. _He feels threatened by me somehow._ His harsh tone made sense to her, like an animal fluffing its fur to scare off a predator. The Prince’s sudden cruel streak was a threat display, to force her on the defensive and give him the upper hand.

Knowing the strategy behind it seemed to take some of the bite out of his words. _Some._

“I would have thought you would be grateful to see another Awoken out here.”

He took a step back, not offering to help her to her feet, and grimaced like her statement had carried a rancid odor. “You’re no Awoken. You’re a corpse that forgot to rot. Just like all of your kind.”

She froze in the middle of brushing off her robe, leveling a hard stare at him. “Why do you have such a problem with us?”

At first, she thought he would ignore her, as he seemed frustratingly wont to do. Then, however, his eyes held hers, matching her glare. “You lot always seem so surprised, discovering that not everyone believes you to be the shining heroes you like to pretend to be. I wonder if you truly believe the lie, or if you simply don’t know how to react when someone finally sees through you.”

“Sees through what?” she demanded. “No one’s claiming that Guardians are perfect, Uldren.”

The name sparked something in him that hadn’t been there before. His words were a warning. “You are not fit to address me with such familiarity.”

She didn’t back down, lips twisting in an annoyed smile. “Why not? You’re not _my_ prince. Remember? I’m not even a real Awoken, according to you.”

“I’m beginning to regret not shooting you.”

“What would it accomplish?” she asked, her annoyance with him superseding the danger of the threat. It was as though the progression of this conversation had cracked through some veneer of required etiquette between them; which was admittedly an odd thing to think about a talk that had begun with a gunpoint standoff. In the throne room, she’d needed his aid and he’d had a sense of decorum to uphold. Here and now, all bets were off.

“You shoot me, crush my Ghost, leave my last corpse here to get buried by the dusts of Mars,” she said. “But you’re still stranded here. Your ship is still in need of repairs and, from the looks of it, you need replacement parts after a crash that bad. I don’t care how well built and skilled your little bird drones are, they can’t fabricate everything and there aren’t even any major outposts of Cabal around here for you to steal from.”

He wanted to deny the accusation, but she caught the tell as his eyes flicked sideways to his ship for the barest of moments, reassessing the extent of the damage. He fidgeted, as though there were a way he could evade the conclusions she’d drawn or wait out the question he should ask next.

She liked seeing him pinned down on the uncomfortable topic. She felt it would probably be a good learning experience for him.

“What would you even do?” he reluctantly asked. “We’re too far from any kind of infrastructure to call transportation. I can’t even get satellite communication to connect.”

She hesitated, realizing that this was the moment she had to walk away. She didn’t _have_ to help him, certainly. Light knew he’d certainly not done anything to warrant any kind of good deeds being passed in his direction.

But they _were_ allies, technically. She kept coming back to that, a hook that kept catching her as she tried to slip out of duty. And while he might be an ass, she usually prided herself on not being one. Leaving him in the wastes seemed cruel.

“I have a Sparrow,” she admitted. “Walking back to the grid might take weeks, but at high speed and navigational help from my Ghost, we could probably be back within range of transmat to my ship within a day or so.”

“And then what? You take me in your ship back to the Reef? I have no interest in clinging to a Warlock’s skirts as though I needed rescue.”

 _You_ do _need rescue,_ she wanted to snap at him, but she held her tongue. “I could get you into the tower. Holiday probably has the parts you need. Or we could send someone to discreetly procure them from the Reef, if they’re specialty. I’m sure Petra could keep the secret of your Guardian assistance if you’re really so hung up on your image.”

“I don’t see how being dragged through your Tower on display would be any better.”

“Well, it’s either you take my help… ‘or die on Mars,’” she said, trying to mimic the sardonic goodbye he’d given her before they’d gone to find a Gate Lord. The narrowing of his eyes showed he didn’t exactly find her mockery as amusing as she did.

“I’m not going to be your trophy,” he said coldly. “I will not serve as the valuable find you cart back to curry favor with your masters.”

She was going to scream at him. That or unleash every bit of void within her right there between them. “Could you think about something other than your damn pride for four seconds, Sov? I’m trying to help you here!”

“You’re trying to use me and my influence to better yourself. Don’t think I don’t know the difference.”

“No,” she said stepping forward and jabbing a finger towards his chest. “You only think that because that’s what _you_ would have done. The idea of simply helping someone out for no other reason than that it’s the right thing to do is such a foreign concept to you that you can’t even imagine it!

“You know how much my life would be affected if you died out here? Not a whit. Who knows, maybe Petra would take over leadership of the Awoken and I could deal with her in the future instead of you and all your complexes. Sounds like an improvement, honestly. You don’t want my help? Fine. Good riddance and good luck with your little birds.”

She turned on her heel, enjoying the loud crunch of each step taking her farther away. She’d almost made it back down the ridge when his pride finally gave out.

“Guardian, wait.” The words might as well have been dragged from the prince by torture for all the reluctance behind them.

She wanted to keep going. She wanted to leave him there and teach him a lesson regarding manners and missed opportunities. She really, truly did.

But she stopped, because she was a Guardian, and he needed help. She didn’t turn back toward him, glaring at the distant empty horizon ahead as she waited to hear him continue.

“Perhaps I was… hasty in my dismissal,” he said. “It is possible you could be of some assistance.”

She turned her head just far enough to shoot a glare over her shoulder, let him sweat in silence for a bit. One small head-tick forward was the only affirmation she gave. “Come on, then. If you must.”


	4. Chapter 4

They made camp for the night in near silence, only terse directions given back and forth. After hours of awkward quiet on the back of the Sparrow, neither Guardian nor prince seemed interested in breaking into conversation.

Sylvanni had had no intention of letting him drive the Sparrow, but the seat hadn’t been designed to hold two, which meant she’d spent the trip awkwardly trying to forget who exactly had his arms wrapped around her waist for hours. Now that they’d stopped for the evening she was enjoying the return of her personal space.

She sat down in front of the carefully arranged pile of tinder and firewood, closing her eyes to concentrate. It felt like a waste to lose her stores of Light by changing her focus, but they needed a fire for the night and this was the easiest way to get one.

After a few heartbeats of meditation, she felt her Light shift, transforming. The once cool, hollow pull of the void within instead began to pulse with warmth, like a forge being stoked to life. She opened her eyes, smiling as she let a few wisps of Light slip free from her fingers, watching the solar flames dance around her hand. After the shift, her Light was too low for something like full Radiance, but she didn’t need anything so flashy.

She forced a small burst of Light from her palm with a quick strike, the solar energy quickly igniting the kindling. She watched the new fire carefully, making sure it was stable enough to sustain itself, then concentrated again to swap her Light back to the comfortable draw of void.

Uldren walked over to the fire, sitting opposite her without a word and pulling a ration from his pack. She wondered how many of those he had after his ship’s crash. He’d been expecting battle, and likely hadn’t packed any kind of supplies for a journey. All he would have had to live on were whatever emergency rations were permanently stowed.

Sylvanni, on the other hand, had been quite intentional about her attempt to get away from everything for a good amount of time. Though her Sparrow couldn’t hold large amounts of food and water, short-range transmatting the supplies from her Sparrow’s stores allowed her to carry more than she’d normally be able to.

Holliday had once explained the system to her as “like rapid dehydration, but with space and matter rather than water.” Sylvanni had mostly given up on wrapping her head around that one. All she knew was that when her Ghost dropped the vacuum-sealed bag of apple slices into her hand with a flash of light, they still looked fresh in their packaging.

As she went to tear them open, however, she paused, eyeing the prince and the block of nutrient protein he’d unwrapped. It was the kind of supply that can sit forgotten in a ship’s cargo hold for months or years without going bad, able to keep a person alive, but designed for pure preservation and sustenance, with little to nothing to entice the senses. Quite unlike the careful variety of fresh and dried food she’d packed for herself a week ago before setting out.

“Hey,” she said, trying not to sigh at what she was doing. When he looked up, she tossed the package to him across the fire. He caught it, surprised, then sent her a frown of confusion.

“It’s got to be better than whatever you’ve been eating out here,” she said, holding her hand to the side as her Ghost transmatted another sealed parcel to her. A sandwich, this time, the bread a bit deformed from its reconstitution, but good enough.

He turned the package over in his hands slowly, as though checking it for traps, then finally opened it. “Thank you,” he offered with reluctance.

“Sylvanni,” she said after another few moments of awkward silence between them. “My name, since you’ve never asked. Sylvanni Duv.”

He eyed her, uncertain how to respond to that, as she already knew his name. He eventually settled on a question instead. “How much further to the grid and your ship’s transmat range?”

She leaned back on one hand, holding her sandwich with the other. “With the boost fuel I have left and a hard burn, we could probably make it back by tomorrow afternoon.” She gave a soft laugh. “Took me five days to get out this far, but we’ll make it back in two. I suppose I took my time and wandered rather than making a beeline, though.”

“And why were you all the way out here, exactly?”

Sylvanni’s hand paused in bringing the sandwich up for another bite, and defenses rising as he started to dig back into her motivations. “Reconnaissance. I told you.”

“Why Athabasca?” he pressed. “What strategic importance could this area hold? Were you searching for me?”

“No,” she said quickly, barking a laugh. “Traveler’s scars, no. The whole point of this excursion was to have some time to myself. Believe me, of all the company I could have unwittingly picked up along the way, yours is the last in the system I would have gone out seeking.”

He considered that long enough to make her realize she may have admitted more than she would have liked. “Time to yourself? Trouble in the Tower, Guardian?”

Her glare froze over, defenses going up. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Don’t I have a right to be curious about the person I’m traveling with?”

“You don’t have a right to anything about me,” she snapped back. “You’re not terribly high on my list of people with whom I would discuss my personal life, Your Highness. I’m sure this is shocking to you, as you take such pride in your warm, compassionate, and welcoming demeanor.”

Annoyingly, her venom seemed to cheer him up. “It appears I’ve struck a nerve.”

She held her hand out for another transmatted sandwich, then chucked it at his head like a grenade as soon as it materialized. He ducked, but still managed to catch it.

“Was that a gift or an attack?” He started to peel the wrapping back.

“A conversation-ender,” she said, turning away from him and lying down. Sleeping in armor wasn’t the greatest experience, but her helmet was padded enough to make it manageable, and she assumed Warlock robes were more comfortable than what Hunters or Titans would have to deal with. “I’m going to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

She heard a small ‘hmm’ from him, but didn’t look back. “I take it this means I have first watch?”

Sylvanni had been travelling alone up to this point, so she hadn’t been keeping watch at nights. She supposed that with two of them, they could trade off sleeping to keep eyes on the horizon if they wanted. Then again, sleeping through the night sounded far more appealing.

“My Ghost can keep watch. The motion radar will wake me up if anything approaches,” she said. “If staying up will put your mind at ease, though, feel free. If you fall asleep and topple off the Sparrow tomorrow, I can’t promise I’ll turn back to pick you up.”


	5. Chapter 5

She was right: the radar woke her instantly.

Sylvanni reached over, trying to wake Uldren, but he wasn't beside her as she'd expected. She sat up, scanning the area around their camp in the darkness. The radar was empty right now, but something had set it off a moment ago.

Uldren was sitting near the edge of their campsite, and though he'd been looking outward, he turned toward her as he heard her stir. “Trouble sleeping?”

She stood in a wary crouch, pulling her scout rifle free. “Shhh. Something set off the motion tracker.”

He scanned outward again, then sighed. “I’ve had eyes on the horizon. I would have seen. Your Ghost was probably just sensing me.”

“It’s not you,” she said. “It’s something else.” She’d had her Ghost register Uldren as an ally in the same way it would track a fireteam member, so he wouldn’t set it off. She had no plans to inform him of that, however. They weren’t _actually_ a fireteam and she didn’t want him getting any ideas that they were.

Something flickered, just outside their camp, like a bit of electricity arcing in the air. Then again, but in a few different locations, scattered before them. Then her ears popped as the air pressure suddenly changed, and she realized what was happening.

She grabbed Uldren, shoving his head down. “Vex coming in! Get down!”

Wind rushed in an unnatural wave, and clouds of fog coated the area, crackling and sparking like a small storm. Vex teleportation always did odd things to the atmosphere. Red bolts streaked through the air right afterward as the first wave of Vex goblins began firing.

Sylvanni summoned a grenade, lobbing it into the center of the group. Bursts of scattered voidlight illuminated the dark scene, painting their enemies in a violet relief. Uldren’s hand cannon barked beside her, cracking two of the glowing cores that were slowly walking towards them. Those two goblins disintegrated, falling into pieces on the ground.

“Hold position,” she called, “I’ll go left.”

Uldren ducked back behind cover long enough to glare at her. “I do _not_ take orders from–”

“Just do it!”

Sylvanni sprinted sideways, drawing fire as she emerged from her cover, but that’s what she’d intended. She could come back if they killed her. Uldren could not. If either of them were going to play this encounter at risk, it would be her. A harpy bloomed open with a screech, catching her directly in a barrage that bounced off her shield before she managed to land a shot in its weak point.

Throwing herself into a slide, she just managed to duck beneath the red streak of a line rifle as it whizzed over her head. She came up in a crouch behind a large rock, praying that Uldren would be able to handle the goblins himself. She slung her scout rifle into its shoulder holster, swapping it for her sniper instead.

She peeked over the lip, aiming down the sights in hopes that she’d catch sight of the snipers through the long range scope. She found one immediately, just as it found her. Crackling red energy began to condense on the end of its gun, but her gun had the advantage: it didn’t have to charge up. A careful shot burst its core, shattering it before it could fire.

“There’s hobs sniping up on the ridge,” she called out. “Keep your head down. I’ll take them out.”

Thankfully, this time, he didn’t argue. Knowing that second hobgoblin was waiting for her, she took a breath, hoping she could make the shot quickly. She popped over the top, steadying her rifle as she took aim, but the infernal machine flinched sideways just at the wrong moment and they traded body shots. Her shot took it in the shoulder rather than the core, while its return fire tore through most of her shields. It hunkered down immediately after taking damage, flinging up a solar barrier to protect itself.

She hard-scoped in, knowing it couldn’t move like that, and trained her crosshairs on the core she could barely make out though the light of the flames. _Come on, drop your shield…_ As the solar energy dissipated, the hobgoblin starting to stand up again. Her shot dismantled it a second later.

Just as a bolt from a third, unseen line rifle took her directly through the head.

There was a sharp, but familiar jolt as she died. One moment she could feel her heart racing, Light pulsing within her, the sweat beneath her gloves as she gripped the gun. Then it was gone, all sensations vanished in an instant as she watched her own body collapse lifelessly to the ground, landing face-forward in the red dirt. She could see through her Ghost’s perspective as he floated, expanded over the place where she’d fallen.

 _[Crota’s maggot-ridden ass!]_ she swore, feeling a sudden panic. _[Where did that shot come from?]_

She couldn’t exactly speak in this form, but she did have a sort of limited communication with her Ghost.  As she understood, it had something to do with her consciousness being sustained by her Ghost’s connection to her and her Light. They were, for the moment, essentially in the same body until he could create a new one for her.

She wasn’t panicked because of the death—Traveler knew she’d died enough times to be used to that—but without her, Uldren was alone. He was a capable fighter, yes, but he didn’t have a Guardian’s capabilities or powers. She felt guilty that her carelessness in not marking all of the snipers had now left him without an ally. If something happened to him, it was her fault.

 _[Ghost, how long until you can revive me?]_ she asked, champing at the bit to reenter the fight. Watching here, from the outside, felt so powerless.

_[Light is weak here. I think the Vex are suppressing it. At least 30 seconds, for an unassisted revival.]_

Well, Uldren wasn’t going to be able to assist in reviving her quicker and there weren’t any other Guardians to do it either. She’d just have to wait it out and pray he could survive without her. Half a minute didn’t sound like a terribly long time, but in the midst of a firefight, every second counted.

 _[Swap to his point of view?]_ she requested. She’d watched teammates fight while she was downed from their perspectives before. Better than sitting here staring at her own corpse, lit by the light of her Ghost.

_[I can’t. Normally I’d connect to the other Guardian’s Ghost. He doesn’t have one.]_

She resisted the urge to swear again. Of course, she should have realized that. She’d gotten so used to fighting beside Guardians that her instincts were all off. She turned her perspective toward him, not entirely sure how she did that. She was limited in what she could do in this disembodied state, but she could look around.

She could just barely make him out, still crouched behind his boulder, though she had a better angle to see when he popped up to fire. She couldn’t see the approaching Vex on the ground from this angle—though she quite annoyingly had a perfect view of the hobgoblin who’d killed her—but Uldren seemed to be holding his own.

In fact, as she watched, she had to admit there was an undeniable elegance in the way he fought. He seemed to aim effortlessly, moving on instinct, as though he already knew where their enemies would be without needing to look. A harpy tried to flank him from the air, but with a metallic screech, it crashed to the ground, a throwing knife embedded in its eye. She hadn’t even seen him toss it.

Finding himself in the clear for a moment, he glanced toward her position. Even in the dark she could see his face fall into a disappointed annoyance at the sight of her glowing Ghost. He scowled, then, checking to make certain he wasn’t exposing himself, he ducked his head and sprinted for her position. As he neared, he threw himself into a slide, shin plates scraping stone.

_[What is he doing? He can’t revive me. Why is he over here?]_

_[Strategic repositioning, perhaps?]_ her Ghost suggested. _[Perhaps he knows you’ll be back soon and wishes to be nearby.]_

He put his back to one of the rock shelves, keeping it between himself and that last sniper up on the ridge. He eyed her floating sphere. “What was that about keeping your head down?”

_[I’m going to kill him.]_

Her Ghost let out a worried chirp. _[That seems like it would be counterproductive to our mission, Guardian.]_

Then, to add insult to injury, as she watched helplessly from beyond death, Uldren Sov began looting her corpse. He turned her body over, pulling the sniper rifle free and hefting it to test its weight. He snapped it up to aim a few times, getting a feel for it, before perfectly casually setting himself up to find an angle on the last hobgoblin. _[Updated list of objectives, Ghost.]_ Sylvanni said, seething at the indignity of it. _[Kill him, then desecrate his grave.]_

_[Oh dear.]_

His placement put her sphere between him and the Vex sniper, so she could only look at one or the other. As he took aim, she swivelled to watch the ridge. The shot rang out. The hobgoblin shattered. He only needed one shot, because _of course he did_. She swiveled back to look at him, wishing he could see her glare.

Uldren lowered her rifle, stance relaxing as he could no longer see any movement in the night. He started to run a hand through his hair, though it looked just as messy and lopsided as always in her opinion.

Then she saw the crackle of light flash behind him. Uldren didn’t notice, having begun to inspect her sniper’s barrel and stock instead, but she, staring past him over his shoulder, had a perfect view as another swath of dense fog coalesced, sparking with energy.

 _[Ghost…]_ She said, feeling a numb horror set in. _[How long until revive?]_

_[Six seconds, counting.]_

A minotaur phased into existence, dropping to the ground. Two more fell in right behind it, their wide set metal shoulders glinting in the light of their teleport.

 _[Ghost, I need to be back_ immediately. _You have to warn him! He doesn’t see them!]_

_[Currently, all processes are dedicated to corporal reconstruction. Attempting external communication will delay the revival. Three seconds.]_

No good options. No time. The minotaurs plodded forward, torch hammers beginning to blaze as they rose toward the Prince’s back.

Sylvanni would _not_ sit idly by and let this happen, not this close. _[Get me up, now!]_

A small surge whirred from her Ghost, and blessedly, the revival took hold. A flash of light lit the scene as she dropped back into the realm of the living, finding her feet on solid ground. She leapt again, immediately, summoning a burst of energy to toss herself high into the air.

She reared back, every bit of Light within her condensing into one perfect, infinite singularity cupped in the palm of her hand. In that breath between heartbeats, the void she held seemed to pull her upward, with a gravity all its own that even the grandness of Mars couldn’t hope to match.

And as one final courtesy, she actually shouted a warning: “Sov, _duck!”_

Her aim was true as she threw with all the strength her newly crafted body could muster. In one instant, there were enemies, and in the next, her nova struck and all was obliterated in the deep, swirling, violet detonation. Where once, three metal monstrosities had existed, there were now only threads of voidlight dissipating as they floated off into the night.

She touched down gently off the glide, letting out a deep breath. He watched her, still holding her rifle in his hand, and raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for both the warning and timely save.”

“I won’t make a comment about you not watching your back,” she offered, “if you don’t say anything about keeping my head down?” _Anything further, that is._

He chuckled. “Very well.” He turned her gun over, inspecting it.

She had to resist the urge to snatch it back out of his hands. “Do you mind _returning_ that?” Her teeth ground over the words.

Taking someone else's weapons? It simply wasn’t _done_ , not among Guardians, at least. Even in the most cutthroat of Crucible matches, one didn’t mess with a downed Guardian’s equipment. Any Guardian would see someone interfering with their things while dead and would be sure to come after the offender once they were alive again.

She tried to tell herself that Uldren simply didn’t understand proper etiquette regarding Guardians and deaths, though considering his track record with manners, something told her he probably wouldn't care regardless.

“This is of Reef make,” he said, making no move to hand it back.

Her hand twitched. “It’s served me well, in our time together. I’ve found that things that come out of the Reef tend to be good quality.” She paused. “Princes excepted.”

His eyes snapped  toward her at the comment, though this time there was a hint of a smile at his mouth. Finally, Traveler be praised, he extended it toward her, handle first. She snatched it back, trying not to be obvious about checking it over for damage. She didn’t actually think he’d hurt it, but it was hard not to be defensive about her equipment.

“Thank you for taking out the last sniper,” she begrudgingly offered. “I should have seen it.”

“I suppose I can thank you for handling the reinforcements.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I _suppose_ I can say you’re welcome then, after you’ve condescended to show your gratitude.” She slipped the sniper rifle’s strap over her shoulder, taking out her scout instead as she found a rock to sit on with a good vantage. “Well, I’m probably not going to be able to sleep for a while after that. You should get some rest. We’ll start early tomorrow. Hopefully be back by midday.”

Initially, he seemed inclined to argue with her on that point, though on what grounds, she couldn’t fathom. Perhaps the idea of simply agreeing with her was disagreeable enough for him to consider it. Common sense won out over pride, thankfully, and he nodded instead.

“Very well,” he said, finding a protected nook beneath one of the boulders to settle into. “Do let me know if any more Vex show up to cause trouble.”

“Of course.” She’d already fallen into the scanning pattern of looking over the horizon, settling in for the watch.

“I’d rather not end up in any more fights to the death tonight.” He turned over, resting his head on his folded cloak. “I think you’ve covered the dying for the evening already.”

She considered it a testament to her considerable willpower that she did not shoot him on the spot. She pulled her Ghost out, hoping for some company. “I should have _left him to die_ , Ghost. Would have done the world a _favor._ ”

Her Ghost just sighed. Though she’d thought she’d spoken soft enough he couldn’t hear, she could have sworn she heard a chuckle from Uldren’s direction.


	6. Chapter 6

She swung the Sparrow sideways, pulling to a stop at the top of the ridge. Shielding her eyes against the late morning sun, she looked down through the valley.

“And that, Your Highness, is the end of our journey in sight,” she said. “Down through the valley and on the other side of those spires should be the Vanguard’s grid. I’ll call my ship and we’ll send you on your way. Can’t be more than a twenty minute ride from here.”

Uldren leaned back, releasing his grip around her waist from riding. “You sound pleased by the idea of being rid of me.”

She looked over her shoulder, giving him a level look, and said nothing. Her expression was enough: _You said it, not me._

He inclined his head. “Fair enough.”

She pulled her sniper out, aiming down the scope to look at their route. Yes, that definitely was the Exclusion Zone ahead. She could just barely make out the ruins of Freehold shining in the distance. Should be a straight shot through, across easy, flat open land. Nothing moved in sight on her scope and nothing pinged her radar.

“Perhaps you’ll appreciate the change of plans, then,” he said. “I’m afraid we’ll be parting ways sooner than expected.”

She frowned in confusion, pulling back from the scope to look at him. “What are you talking ab–”

She died instantly.

There was one good thing about a Guardian dying—if _anything_ could be said to be good about dying—it was almost always quick. As soon as her Ghost’s monitor of her vitals registered that damage she took was lethal, the system immediately killed her.

Cut off. Scratched out. Snuffed.

No reason to prolong suffering with drawn out pain, wasting away in agony. No reason to wait for a wound to bleed out. The sooner she was dead, the sooner the revival process could begin. Best to be quick. War wounds could be nasty if they didn’t kill, yes, but deaths were usually clean.

Which is why, as soon as Uldren buried his knife into her neck, she was gone before her next heartbeat.

It happened so quickly, for a moment she didn’t realize _why_ she was dead. She’d been perfectly relaxed, no enemies in sight. And then, without warning, she was watching her Ghost expand into his open form as her body slumped over and slid off the Sparrow.

_[Ghost, what the hell just happened?]_

It was a useless question. She _knew_ what had killed her: the traitor she’d risked life and limb to bring back to safety, as he quite literally stabbed her in the back.

Uldren cleaned his knife, then took something from a pocket: a thin piece of metal, hooked like a lockpick. He reached toward her Ghost and started to fiddle with the inner mechanisms, right around the central eye, and as she watched in growing horror, small arcs of electricity sparked down the short flat tool.

_[Ghost? What is he doing? Ghost!]_

The reply was scratched and distorted, like a transmission coming through a jamming signal. _[G-G-Gaurdian, ther—*kssht*—interference with th—*kssht* a ma-malfunct—]_

And then, simply static for a second, before she felt the channel of communication completely go dead.

It had been a very long time since Sylvanni had truly feared death. She’d faced many fearsome enemies, some terrifying beyond comprehension. Yet, in the back of her mind, she always believed she’d come back. Even though she’d seen dead Guardians before, ones who had lost their Ghosts, or had run out of Light at just the wrong moment, it always seemed like something that happened to _others_ , not something that could happen to her.

But here, staring through her silenced Ghost’s vision at the Prince of the Reef, she was reminded of the thought that had hit her while staring down the barrel of his hand cannon at their first confrontation out here: Uldren _knew_ Guardians.

He knew her Ghost was was her only way back to life.

_[Ghost,]_ she sent, the word a desperate, useless prayer into that open, empty channel. _[Please don’t be gone._ Please. _Oh Light, he’s actually going to kill me. I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want to die at all! Ghost? ...Traveler? Anyone?]_

Uldren withdrew from the Ghost, slipping the small tool back into his pocket. If Sylvanni had still had a heartbeat, in that moment it would have stopped. She could still see, which meant at least some part of the Ghost was still functioning, despite whatever it was Uldren had done to it.

But that was the question: What _had_ he done to it, and why? Why murder her when they were so close to getting away?

“ _Relax_ ,” he said, dragging the word out in a long drawl. “I can almost feel you panicking in there. I have no intention of killing you, Guardian.” He paused, glance dropping to her corpse on the ground. “Well, killing you _further_.”

He squatted down, sitting on his heels to stare at her, eye-level with the Ghost. It was uncanny how precisely he seemed to be making eye contact, considering she didn’t currently have eyes for him to look at. Her terror slowly ebbed as it appeared less and less likely that she was going to die for good.

What had been fear was quickly being replaced by a blistering anger.

“I’ve simply... bought a little time,” Uldren said, poking at one of the Ghost’s floating corners. “All but your little toy’s most basic functions are currently disabled, jammed by a signal I’m carrying. As I said, it is time for us to part ways, and I would rather not be followed. As soon as I’m out of range,your Ghost will return,  you’ll be back on your feet, and, if you’re wise, you will be disinclined to follow me.”

He started to check over his weapons and supplies, ensuring he knew where everything was and that all was in order. He paused, as if considering something, then turned back to side-eye her orb.

“I do have one favor to ask before I go, however.”

She would have given anything for the ability to nail him with a flat look as those words tumbled from his mouth.

_[Oh this had better be_ damned _good, Sov.]_ He couldn’t hear her, of course, and neither could her Ghost, apparently, but she sent the words across the channel anyway. Force of habit.

Stabbing someone in the neck and then asking them for help? He was either the most inconsiderate idiot or most arrogant asshole to try to pull a move like that, and she was coming to suspect it was somehow both at the same time.

“If you would be so kind, don’t tell anyone I’m alive,” he said. “Now, I suspect you’re not terribly amenable to the idea of doing anything I’d ask at the moment, so allow me to clarify: this request isn’t for my comfort. It’s for theirs.”

He gestured vaguely toward the sky, and though Sylvanni rotated her view to look upward, she understood that the motion somehow indicated the Reef and its Awoken.

“They’ve lost a queen,” he said, “and they believe I am lost as well.”

_[Which is why they need stable and familiar leadership!]_ She wanted to scream the words at him. _[Even an asshole ruler like you would be better than nothing for them right now! How can you just abandon them?]_

“I have no intention of returning to the Reef, willingly or otherwise,” he continued, oblivious to her silent rant. “You spreading news of my survival would only cause them unnecessary turmoil and prolong the transition. Let them grieve, let them recover, and let them move on. It is best for everyone if, as far as anyone knows, I died at the Dreadnaught. If they send anyone searching for me, they will find nothing. The only thing they will accomplish is wasting their time and possibly getting themselves killed. My plans are my own and do not involve going home.”

Some of Sylvanni’s rage quieted into curiosity as he spoke. As audacious as it was for him to ask something of her only moments after murdering her, his reasoning intrigued her. She had little doubt he could disappear as thoroughly he promised, but why? Plots, secrets, and schemes were a Warlock’s stock and trade. She couldn’t help but have her interest piqued at his vague explanations. She wanted to _know._

He walked back over to the Sparrow, resting a hand against the seat. “I will have to take this, of course.” He was turned just far enough that she could see the corner of his smirk, and her fury rekindled in an instant.

_[Oh no, he cannot be serious.]_

“Consider this my last favor to you. The sooner my jamming signal is out of range, the sooner your floating little friend can revive you.”

Raising a hand, he looked out over the valley, toward the Exclusion Zone. The valley that she was supposed to have been able to zip across on the Sparrow in less than half an hour. Which, she realized, as they were still outside the vehicle grid, was a journey she would now be making on foot.

He chuckled to himself, likely thinking along similar lines. “Might take you slightly longer to get back than expected, but I’m certain the walk will be senic. And by the time you do manage to resummon your Sparrow and take it back from me, I will already be very, very far away.”

He swung a leg over the vehicle, testing the boost with a quick tap on the throttle and nodding to himself at the result. A small part of Sylvanni’s mind still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Uldren Sov had not only stabbed her in the back but was now stealing her possessions after she’d gone out of her way to try to rescue him and had, quite literally, sacrificed herself to save his life last night. It was _unfathomable_.

He did hesitate, briefly, looking back at her in the expanded Ghost. “I know, perhaps this wasn’t the ending you expected, Guardian, but I will say this: Your assistance was… appreciated. I would not have made it back this far without your intervention. So, thank you, for that. I doubt our paths will cross again.”

All she could do was simmer in angry, lonely silence, watching him mount up. _[For your sake, Uldren, you’d better hope they never do.]_

She kept herself occupied with thoughts of all the different ways she might pay him back for this if she ever saw him as she watched the glow of her Sparrow zip away across the sands, carrying the Prince of the Reef out of sight.

Then, utterly alone, there was nothing to do but sit and wait in the empty quiet, hoping he’d spoken truly and her Ghost would return to her soon.


	7. Epilogue

A change in the tone of her Ghost’s ambient hum gave Sylvanni a heads up that he was coming back online. It was only a slight shift, true, but having had nothing else to do but listen while she waited had made her quite familiar with the sound.

He started panicking immediately. _[—func-function, system is inopera—*kssht* Multiple p-processes offline. F-forced re-re-rebo—*kssht*]_

Sylvanni wished she’d had lungs, to take a deep breath to steady herself. Alas, no such luck. _[Ghost? Ghost, don’t freak out. You’re coming back online, and your active states are still returning. Just stay calm and let things get back up and running. We’ll sort through what happened in a moment.]_

The static interrupts ebbed from the communication channel, her Ghost’s synthetic voice returning to its normal timbre. _[St-stabilizing. What sent me offline, and how long have I been like this, Guardian?]_

_[Half an hour, maybe? It’s hard to tell time like this.]_

_[What do you mean, like th—]_ He let out a surprised beep. _[Wait, Guardian, you’re dead!]_

Perhaps it was for the best she had no lungs, so she couldn’t let out a heavy sigh. _[Yes, thank you for noticing. If you get a chance to start up the revival process, I’d greatly appreciate it.]_

_[Starting up revival systems now. I should have an estimate in a few moments. What happened, Guardian?]_

_[Uldren happened,]_ she said. _[How much do you remember before you went dark?]_

He took a moment, apparently trying to remember. _[I think all of my data files are intact but access is still scrambled. I can probably start piecing it back together after you're revived. Speaking of, system is online and active. Guardian resurrection in 3, 2, 1.]_

Sylvanni fell back into corporeality the way a sigh falls from exhausted lips. She settled back into her own skin and veins, feeling as though she were stepping back into a home she’d been away from for too long. Flexing her hands, she stretched the stiff joints, knuckles cracking and reminding her of that day in Old Russia so many months ago with a different resurrection after a much longer sleep.

Rubbing at a sore spot at the back of her neck, she turned to look at her now closed Ghost floating beside her. “I’m sure you’ll get the data sorted soon. In the meantime, the short version is this: Uldren decided he wanted to leave. He also didn’t want to be followed. In order to accomplish this, he killed me and disabled you.”

The Ghost’s panels narrowed around the eye, like a frown. “Well, that wasn’t very nice of him.”

“He’s not a terribly nice person, it turns out.” Shielding her eyes, she looked off into the distance that Uldren had disappeared. “I don’t suppose we’re close enough to the grid for you to call that Sparrow back, are we?”

He turned in a circle, doing a quick scan of the area. “Wait, where did it go?”

“Uldren took it. You were already disabled by then, I guess.”

“Well that’s _very_ not nice of him.” He let out a few small chirps as he processed their current location data. “At the moment, we are still 19.7 kilometers from the nearest boundary of the vehicle grid. I’ve marked it on your radar.”

She groaned, seeing the white diamond superimpose itself over the horizon.

“However,” he chirped, trying to sound cheerful, “it’s mostly downhill. With your glide and average rate of travel, I believe you can maintain a pace just over seven kilometers per hour, which should have you back in range in just under three hours.”

She groaned more heavily. Three hours of walking, all because of stupid Uldren and his stupid secrets and betrayal. “I don’t really want to know this but I’m asking to torture myself: How... quickly would the Sparrow have made the trip?”

The Ghost floated downward, ducking her eye contact. “About twenty minutes.”

She really wanted to be angry, to just let herself be furious and livid. A part of her wanted to throw a tantrum, maybe toss a few Nova Bombs into the distance just to let off steam. And yet, with the actual task laid before her, she couldn’t bring herself to get worked up over it. It was a bad turn of events and she wished to all Light that Uldren hadn’t done it, but when push came to shove, he was gone and getting mad wasn’t going to accomplish anything.

All in all, she just felt tired.

Checking her weapons were secured—and silently thanking the Traveler that Uldren hadn’t decided to steal any of _those_ again—she looked down the ridge and started walking in the direction her waypoint indicated. Nothing to do but get to walking. That grid wasn’t going to get any closer if she just stood here.

A couple of quick bursts off her glide let her surf down the side of the sandy ridge much faster than she would have been able to scramble on hands and feet. If her Ghost was right and this route was mostly downhill, she ought to be able to float a lot of the way, rather than jogging it. That might not be so bad.

As she touched down at the bottom, a couple of red sandstone pebbles skittering before her, her conscience plucked at her thoughts, reminding her of the conversation Uldren had given before he’d left. She frowned at herself while she wrestled with the decision, scrunching up her face as though that was going to help.

Finally she sighed. “Ghost.”

“Yes, Guardian?”

_You damn well don’t deserve this, Sov._ “Ghost, delete all data files containing or referencing meeting Uldren Sov here on Mars.”

She wasn’t entirely certain why she was doing it; it certainly wasn’t for his benefit. After everything he’d put her through, she’d heavily considered trying to tell everyone what he was up to, just to spite him. It’d serve him right.

But she couldn’t bring herself to go through with it. He was right, she supposed, about the Reef and needing to move on. If he wasn’t going to be there for them, then they deserved to think him dead. They deserved to choose a new leader, a better one who wasn’t going to abandon them for his own goals and send back no word.

The Ghost let out a surprised beep. “Delete the records, Guardian?”

She paused. Maybe that was hasty. “No, wait. Just… encrypt them and file them under highest classification. Hidden Tier 7: Vanguard Access Only.”

She’d tell Ikora, because someone at the Tower deserved to know. The Warlock Vanguard knew how to keep a secret and whatever Ikora decided to do with the knowledge of Uldren Sov’s survival, Sylvanni would trust that it was a wise decision.

It’d be nice, she thought, to have someone else make the decisions for a change. Light knew she hadn’t made any wise decisions out here, herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this story is currently complete, there will be a sequel! Keep an eye out for that! Thank you to everyone who has followed along with me this far and an extra special thank you to those who've left comments and reviews. Your support is what keeps me writing!


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